


i won't let you go (darling)

by gerardweyhey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU sort of, Angst, Anxiety, Cuddles, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardweyhey/pseuds/gerardweyhey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky would rather destroy himself and piece everyone back together than admit he's suffering, but all he wants is Steve to tell him it'll be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i won't let you go (darling)

**Author's Note:**

> the title's from I Won't Let You Go (Darling) by Hedley
> 
> basically I've been imagining Stucky angst for weeks now so I finally wrote something also I haven't posted in literally a year so I'm sorry about that
> 
> i also have a tumblr (autumninginreverse) where i post these and a spotify (saverockandkj) where i post related playlists (for this i suggest back to december (thinking of you))
> 
> anyways im hoping this isn't horrible and that you really like it and if you did I would greatly greatly appreciate kudos or a comment/bookmark it makes my heart smile enjoy!!!

Ever since he was young, Bucky had always hated the cold. Cold reminded him of being small and bundled in a dozen random clothes so he wouldn’t freeze on the way to school, and giving half of them to Steve because he never could dress for the cold and was always getting sick. Cold was a constant reminder of Steve before the serum, when Bucky would feel the gnawing worry that every winter would be Steve’s last. He was tiny and frail and every winter he’d stay home for months on end, battling miscellaneous illnesses, while Bucky had to go to school and contemplate what had happened to Steve while he was gone. There was no bigger relief than entering Steve’s slightly less frozen home to find him bundled up in his bed with a small smile. Now, without having to worry about Steve’s health, the cold now mostly reminds Bucky of falling. The piercing wind feeling as though it was tearing his skin apart, watching Steve become farther and farther, and the beginning of the darkest era of his existence. The metal that composed Bucky’s replacement arm was cold, what he did under the alias of the Winter Soldier was cold, and Bucky fucking hated the cold. 

The faint glow of the moon beamed into Bucky’s room, outlining the random scattered items on his floor. He hadn’t slept for days, but then again, he also hadn’t properly slept since 1943. Nightmares kept him conscious through the night, reliving the horror of murdering dozens of people. The imagined screams made his ears feel like they were bleeding, and every night it felt like he had lost another barely recovered piece of himself. Living in the Avengers Tower did nothing for his sanity the way psychologists and Tony had said it would. The advanced security and bulletproof glass only made him feel more confined, like he was back being experimented on. He couldn’t leave if he needed to, and right now he needed to. His mind wasn’t stopping and he felt trapped: suffocating alone without a say. His breathing became rapid and he shot up, his long hair brushing against his sweaty face. His bionic arm was so cold, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He shut down, shaking and sobbing in a panic. Everything was cold, and he was alone. 

He managed to collect himself enough to stumble out of bed, tripping a little bit on his clothes that adorned the floor. He slammed into the wall desperately, clinging to the drywall Tony had said would help Bucky “feel like he was at home”, whatever that was supposed to mean. Bucky had no home, he hadn’t since he was 26 years old. All he knew now of a home was blue eyes and soft blonde hair, and he wasn’t even allowed to have that anymore. Steve kept him sane, and Bucky didn’t let his pain and suffering show through because he had no desire for Steve to worry about him the way he used to for him. Bucky sunk to the floor, sobs still racking through him, and he’d never felt so alone and abandoned. He knew he would be fine alone, that he didn’t need Steve, but it wasn’t fair to him that he never seemed to get what he wanted once in a while. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull the dampened locks away from him. He needed to breathe, but nothing seemed to help. He pulled himself up to reach the door, stepping into the hallway and sighing. He frantically rubbed away tears from his broken blue eyes, and attempted to recollect where anything was in this stupid tower. He ended up in the bathroom, splashing cold water onto his face, while the thought of waking Steve up kept persisting in his selfish mind. He analyzed himself in the mirror, and was disappointed with who he saw looking back at him. Bucky had lost everything: he used to be what everyone wanted to be. He was charming and handsome and both academically and athletically talented. Now, he was a mentally disturbed man who appeared to have let himself go, but his lack of confidence and growing depression left his appearance on a backburner to everything else he had going on. He caught a glance at his metal arm and shortly after the mirror had been completely shattered. Bucky immediately regretted his decision and panicked, hoping a team of people whose lives were dedicated to picking out the slightest thing wrong in a situation would skip over the sound of broken glass. As Bucky attempted to rush back into his room, he heard the unmistakeable noise of a door creak open, and saw Steve poke his head out of his door, shield in hand.

“Buck, did you hear that?” Steve inquired, his forehead crinkled with worry. Bucky just nodded, motioning for Steve to go back into his room. “What happened?” Steve whispered, balancing his shield back in his room. He entered the hallway, gently closing his door behind him.   
“Steve, honestly, it’s fine, just- just go back to bed.” Bucky insisted in a hushed voice.   
“Bucky c’mon, just talk to me, please.” Steve begged. Bucky glanced up at his friend, his face showing how genuinely concerned he really was. Bucky’s eyes returned to the floor, and he nodded, retreating into his room. 

“What happened?” Steve repeated his question from earlier in a lowered voice. Bucky just sat on the floor, shaking his head slowly. “It was the mirror.” he finally replied. Steve looked down. his eyes mirroring the sympathy he felt for the damaged man. He sat beside Bucky, slowly taking his metal hand into his own, searching for remnants of glass caught between creases. Bucky swallowed hard, grimacing at the fact Steve was touching his hand, his metal hand. He hated any acknowledgement of its existence, knowing how many people’s lives he’d held in it and ended with it, and he didn’t want something as gentle and kind as Steve to come into crossings with it. After what felt like an eternity, he placed it back down and put his hand on the small of Bucky’s back, a sensation Bucky felt much better about; the warmth of Steve’s hand somehow radiating happiness slowly back into his blood. “Why’d you do it?” Steve asked, voice gentle and understanding. God, Bucky was grateful to have Steve, the only person who managed to find the good in a monster, who took the time to look at things differently and understand the worst of the worst. 

“I was angry.” Bucky’s answers remained vague, but didn’t cause Steve to become frustrated. Instead, he nodded slowly, analyzing to himself what that may mean. 

“Buck, please, please, I know it’s hard but I want to try and understand. I want to know how you feel and why you feel that way. Please just open up to me.” Bucky looked up to the soft expression Steve held and focused back on the firmness of Steve’s hand. He glanced up again to Steve as his eyes began to well with tears at the sight of Steve looking so sad. Steve remained speechless as he instantly began to stroke through Bucky’s hair, accepting the man’s head into his chest as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s okay, Buck.” Steve reassured him, whispering his promise into his hair. “It’s over now, you’re safe, you’re going to be okay.” Bucky only nodded against Steve’s chest, pulling away to grimace at the tear stains on his shirt.  
“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice was low and wobbly. Steve smirked, looking down at Bucky with a smile that made his heart melt everytime.   
“Of course you’d apologize for taking care of yourself for once” Steve replied, looking down at the wide eyed brunette bundled safely in his arms.

“I’m not supposed to show weakness,” Bucky began, his voice more stable but gentle. “or emotion, I never could, not then and not now. I had to take care of you, I couldn’t drag you down with me and have you convinced you were going to die or else you would’ve.”

“I’m fine now, Bucky. You don’t have to take yourself apart to put everyone else back together, you are as worth your love and protection as anyone else. I know you haven’t felt like that since before you were the Winter Soldier, but that wasn’t you Bucky, it never was. You had no idea what was going on, and you are a completely separate entity with different morals.” They sat in silence, with the occasional nudge from Bucky’s head and the constant movement of Steve’s fingers on Bucky’s back. 

“Look, I know you don’t believe what I say.” Steve began slowly, “You don’t think you deserve to be loved and to be happy. I know that the nightmares won’t end and you won’t magically be saved by what I say. It’s going to take time.” Steve was worried Bucky could feel his heartbeat in his chest, slamming against his ribcage, and he felt the twitches of his jaw on his chest. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I understand, we all understand a small piece of what you went through. We know it was traumatizing, though we’ll never understand what it was like. But no one thinks you’re weak because you’re hurting. Everyone is amazed at how well you’ve managed to cope so far, but you don’t have to put on a show every day and cry alone in your room every sleepless night.” Bucky’s grip tightened on Steve’s torso, as if he were to let go, he’d lose him forever. “Even when I had nothing, I had you. Now, I’ve gotta return the favour.” Steve smiled, pressing a kiss into Bucky’s hair. Ever since he’d returned, Steve was unsure of Bucky’s new boundaries, whether he’d want to be with Steve again, if he wanted any physical contact at all, and it was a balancing act attempting to find the line without having to directly ask and cause Bucky more confusion and anxiety. 

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky finally managed to say, his voice laced with nerves. Steve nodded as he held Bucky close, breathing in the familiar scent of the boy he’d fallen in love with at 13, who he’d watch fall for countless girls, only to find his way back to Steve when it had just nearly become too late. Times had changed and so had they both, but Bucky was still Bucky to Steve; none of what had happened while Steve was in the ice mattered to him. He was willing to work every day to try and replenish what Bucky had left behind. A part of Steve knew it would never be the same, but things were never meant to go back to their original form. Change was essential for growth, and Steve knew if Bucky were to survive in this new world, he would need to. 

Steve’s grip on the smaller frame entangled with him eventually loosened as he got up to leave. Bucky remained on the carpet, watching Steve leave as the cold returned to his body, feeling drained and lost once again. His heart was at war with his mind, he knew he needed to say something before Steve had left and finally,

“Please don’t go.” he faintly whispered. Steve turned instantaneously, looking back to see Bucky staring up with pleading eyes. “Stay.” he breathed weakly. Steve’s heart flooded with happiness at the feeling of being wanted by Bucky, he never wanted to leave, only wanted to see if Bucky was going to ask him not to go. “Of course.” Steve nodded, a smile breaking out on his face, and Bucky looked relieved. He stood up and crawled into bed, Steve following him cautiously. He kept his distance from Bucky, whose worry lines had faded from his face and he looked somewhat peaceful considering the circumstances. “You can come closer.” Bucky insisted, his mouth turning into a reassuring slight smile. Steve shifted closer so that he was inches from Bucky’s face, concentrating on the details of the face he’d dreamt about his whole life. He studied the long eyelashes surrounding baby blues he’d once seen lit up with joy, the curves of the lips he’d secretly kiss, the two of them hidden from the hateful world, the stubble that contoured his hollowed cheeks.

“You can kiss me if you want.” Bucky told him. The butterflies returned to Steve’s stomach, as if he was taken back to the first time they’d kissed, 16 years old and stowed away in Steve’s living room, safe from the backlash with each other. “I mean, if you want to, only if-” Steve’s babbling was cut off by rough lips pressed to his. Not hungry, not passionate, just soft and gentle, simple, the way they’d always been. 

“You’ve never been one to shut up.” Bucky smiled teasingly, and Steve giggled, happy to have another piece of his Bucky back. 

“I love you.” Steve said suddenly, instantly regretting how fast he’d pushed everything.

“My point exactly.” Bucky grinned, pausing to regain a more serious persona. “I love you too. Always have.” They locked eyes, enjoying the delicate beauty of each other in the dawn’s lighting. Bucky turned on his side, inching back into Steve to be held, to feel safe and secure for the first time in seventy years. He felt the pressure of Steve’s arm sling onto his side, and the screams quieted down, though still gnawing at his mind. 

“I won’t let you go, never again.” Steve promised, and Bucky hasn’t felt cold since.


End file.
